Ten years he wandered, length and
breadth.Ten years of pain and fear and
death.

Ten years a plague upon the land.Ten years of death held in his hand.

The lives he's ruined would fill a tome[2].But now he turns his steps to home.

To finish out a quest most odd.To dare to dream…become a god.

° ° °

In deepest dark he waits the time.He speaks the words, he chants the rhyme.

The blood and tears, they mark the sign,
on breast and brow, of demon's vine.

While ring of hair upon his head, like
crown of hell, salutes the dead.

The words now said, the chant
complete.The time has come, her heart
to eat.

And as he does, this Elvish Tor, he feels
the force into him pour!

He grows in size, has strength and
power.Now is his time!Now is his hour!

He is a god... but god of what?The god of death, the Senicot.

All gone the dreams of Elvish Tor.All lost like dust upon the floor.

A thing he is, that cannot die,that roars its rage at midnight sky.

° ° °

So in the night so softly creeping.How gently to your sleeping spot.

Tor's silent death comes sadly
weeping.The horror known as Senicot.

To your place on silent paw.Striping bare the deadly claw.

Ready now for feasting raw.The dripping fang, the hungry maw.

The claws that rend, the breath so
hot.It's time to feed the Senicot.

So run and pant, and look behind, and see
your fear, and loose your mind.

Run on and on, and weep and cry.Now time to scream...soon time to die.

So stay together, you and I.And pray to never hear that cry.

And know him coming to your spot.The horror known as Senicot.

° ° ° ° °

Author’s note

The Ballad of Elvish Tor was
written to provide a bit of campfire entertainment for a group of Boy Scouts
(although it did seem to get a bit out of hand for the age group).In case you haven’t caught the joke, you might
be interested to know that the name Senicot was deliberately taken from the
laxative of the same name.I’d decided
to write a story designed to “Scare the crap” out of the boys, and the name
popped into my head.The first verse
wrote itself, and all else followed from that.

0 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Posted 1 Year Ago

0 of 2 people found this review constructive.

I love how you wrote this poem as a campfire tale. Really well written and somewhere throughout the poem I felt a connection! You are definitely a skilled poet, keep up the good work.
"Beneath the earth, in crypts of stone, where light is naught, and nothing's grown:
In chest of brass he finds the scroll. To touch his mind, and twist his soul."
Beautiful lines, really stood out to me.

Posted 1 Year Ago

Rating /100

1 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Absolutely loved it!!!!! So happy you decided to share another epic tale. You hit it all, and I would be sleeping well at the bottom of my sleeping bag if this tale had been shared at the fireside I frequented. (Because everyone knows you're perfectly safe Senicot if he can't see you.)